


Speed and ice/take it slow

by orphan_account



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Exploring Sexuality, Fucking, M/M, Questioning Sexuality, Text Messages, total fucking incoherent nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the fanzone pics of Fernando indulging his Aussie fetish, this rapidly got out of hand. It's trash, I can't fix it, I need it gone. There's a lot of porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speed and ice/take it slow

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to @knouis who put up with me sending an early iteration of this across and didn't throw it at me immediately.
> 
> This was supposed to be PWP. And to be honest, it still is - just at great length, with emotions. It may eventually merit an explanatory sequel but given this season probably everyone will have changed teams, people they habitually cuddle with and everything else by the end of next week, so...
> 
> The song Jenson and Fernando are talking about is 'Land Down Under' by Men At Work, as remixed this year by Chachi and Paige. (it's shitmazing) The title is from 'Club Aso' by Palmistry.

_I missed you :)_

Dany stares at the text message for a second, as though it’s likely not to be real. He turns his phone over just in case it’s actually Carlos’ but, no, definitely his. Also, to be fair, that would’ve been even weirder.

_I guess I mean :( actually_

_Sorry_

_Awkward_

_Max is a shit dancer :(_

Daniel cannot possibly be drunk. Dany’s been with him all day at the stupid clay shooting thing and none of them were allowed anything stronger than fizzy water. Ironic, for a drinks brand.

He considers his options; he can not reply, on the basis Dan’s either temporarily lost his mind or is taking the piss out of him. Or he could assume it’s a genuine olive branch. Well, not like things can get that much more embarrassing.

_You’r an asshole._

_I miss you too._

He holds his breath as he hits send on the second one - it’s totally a mistake but he’s bored of playing silly fuckers, lying back on the bed with his left forearm draped over his eyes.

Almost simultaneously, there’s a buzz, a _clonk_ noise of something hitting the wall and then carpet and a distinctly Antipodean “ _Shitfuck”_ from just outside the door.

Dany stays frozen for a minute. This is… this could mean they were all outside the door, waiting to cackle at his reply to Dan. But that wouldn’t make any sense, seeing as they could do that from actual Australia, with modern telecommunications.

There’s a bit of shuffling outside the door but it doesn’t _sound_ like multiple people (although Dany makes a mental note that the room-to-corridor soundproofing here is clearly not _ideal_ given his proximity to Max’s room) and in the end, tired-of-this-fuckery wins as he gets up to open the door.

Dan jumps out of his skin, clearly having been leaning on the wood slightly - Dany supposes it’s just as well he didn’t actually fall on him - “Uh- hello?”

Dan’s recovery is _impressive,_ immediately springing to lean casually against the doorframe like it’s Dany who’s turned up outside _his_ hotel room, “Oh hey mate”

“Do you… want to come in?” This is so surreally, awkwardly embarrassing that Dany almost feels comfortably familiar with it, after the last few months.

“Oh yeah, that’d be great actually,” Dan’s smile does not touch his eyes, which look panicked. _What the fuck now?_ Surely Dan hasn’t been sent to GP2 or something?

Dany thanks the hospitality gods that there are two armchairs in the room, meaning they don’t actually have to sit on his bed for whatever heartrending mess looks currently likely to occur. You don’t need that shit on your sheets, whatever Dan’s favourite emo bands like as metaphor.

Dan almost hugs himself when he sits down - he’s always been physically very obvious about his emotions, unable to stop himself fidgeting when he’s stressed but this is… _nerves?_ “Mate, I need help.”

“Err,” Dany isn’t entirely sure what help he could give anyone right now, unless Dan needs ‘a list of ways in which I avoid making eye contact with half the people I used to work with’ or some tips on ice-bathing shunt-induced knee bruises.

“Look, I can’t talk to…. anyone about this,” Dany’s not per se _overjoyed_ to discover he appears to have fallen into category: no one, “and we used to chat and I know - well, I think - you won’t take the piss out of me, so.”

Dany sighs, because actually he’s pretty ticked off with Dan for some of the shit he’s said this week and he’d been vaguely hoping for a reconciliatory apology, not whatever this is. But he isn’t, in fact, going to take the piss - he’s not in the mood for grief-creation, no matter how stupid or enormous whatever Dan’s going to tell him turns out to be, “Out with it, Dan.”

“Ok. Ok. Err. So,” Dan looks very, extremely flustered, to the point that Dany is actually beginning to panic that he may be about to confess some long-suppressed marriage proposal or something, just in case their lives ever dropped below ‘apocalyptic’ levels of awkward, “You speak Spanish?”

“Uh, yeah,” Maybe Dan’s met a Spanish girl? Or a Spanish… team? No, that makes no sense. Also he swears Dan speaks Spanish to at least a decent degree.

“Ok. Mate. You have to… look, I know everything’s been a bit shit and I’m sorry and I don’t really know what to do because I’m drowning in it myself but I trust you?” Dan’s holding his phone out to Dany, which he can’t currently gather the presence of mind to grab.

“What is it?” Dany finds himself almost-whispering, a low rumble in comparison to Daniel’s higher breathiness, almost panting.

Dan shakes his head and Dany has a terrible, fleeting, insane moment of fear that it’s something to do with Carlos and feels paralysed with sickness. _Please, no._

Dan pushes his phone at him again and this time Dany accepts it, looking down at the screen as Dan puts his head in his hands, elbows on knees so he’s nearly in a crash brace position, “You gotta _promise_ not to tell anyone, mate.” Ok, that doesn’t sound like it’s about Dany in any way. Jesus, maybe Dan’s got someone pregnant? It would hardly be _that_ big a crisis though, surely? He’s 27 and a millionaire.

The texts he’s looking at are under ‘Alo’, which is an unusual girl’s name but ok - it’s clearly a girl.

Dan is making soft, mournful, agonised noises as Dany reads, like he’s actually injuring himself - or maybe like Dany’s checking him for wounds and he desperately needs to be fixed up. Whatever it is, it’s fucking unnerving - Dany tries to concentrate on the slightly smashed screen.

_Hola ;)_

Well, that can’t need translating.

_You look so down, canguro~ u know I know a lot about your place. come talk? Xxx_

Ok but this can’t be the first time someone has called Dan a kangaroo. Dany’s always been quietly relieved that no one could ever have any reason to compare him to a bear and no one’s ever heard of any other Russian animals.

_Thanks mate. Need a bit of headspace on my own._

The next one has a late timestamp, days later-

_Usted escucha una música tan triste :( No es sano_

Literally everyone thinks Dan’s music taste is unhealthy, even other people who like that sort of thing. Even _Lewis_ does.

_Fuck off, amigo. :)_

_bien ¿qué tal una mamada ;)_

_You are drunk :) This is Dan’s number._

Bit of a swift change in conversational direction but Dany’s spent actual years encountering Dan’s passion for sexting in the form of drunkenly misdirected texts so it’s pretty funny to see him suffering some of the same. Blow jobs are surely pretty standard, though?

There’s a good 48 hours between these messages and the next, which are from earlier today:

_tu trasero es P1 ;)_

_Thanks mate but I think you’ve got the edge on me, there._

Dan _groans_ when he sees Dany scroll down again.

_Si, is good to keep you on your toe somehow._

_How about you fuck me in it? ;)_

_Uh, just checking Jenson hasn’t changed your phone, mate? This is Dan._

Dany can’t stop his head whipping up to fix Dan (who has braced his hands behind his neck like he’s actually in a plane crash) with a bug-eyed stare. He feels like he’s in the denouement of a dodgy soap opera. _Jenson?_ But that would mean... Dany feels like his brain is going into terminal meltdown, finally.

_Yes of course is your number. You Australians are all idiots._

There’s no reply from Dan. But the message was only sent 32 minutes ago, so Dany figures that must be when his ex-teammate set up camp outside his door.

“Are you…” Dany tries to consider how to phrase it but there’s maybe no other way, “Are you fucking Alonso?”

He’s pretty pleased that all that ‘not speaking with a wobble even when in the depths of a crippling mental crisis’ practice has paid off.

Dan makes a hideously pained, almost animal noise, “No.”

“Because he seems to want to fuck you?” Dany feels like he hasn’t blinked for about a year and maybe never will again.

“I know!” Dan has become slightly high-pitched and whiny and he’s actually clutching at the collar of his shirt, like an 1800s gentlewoman “What am I meant to _do_?”

And Dany remembers this, from when he’d been pining for Carlos. After they’d kissed a few times, when he was telling himself he couldn’t possibly, that Chili couldn’t possibly. Except that had been nervous teenagers - well, one nervous teenager and one Carlos - and years of being a bit in love with each other, inching agonisingly closer together. Not fucking Fernando Alonso. Which, ok, might render anyone a nervous teenager.

Also as far as Dany knows, despite the woeful, bestial noises currently escaping Dan that he’d otherwise interpret as some form of lovesickness, his ex-teammate is totally straight. The Jean-Eric thing aside, anyway - and that had been extremely specific and confusing, really because Dany only ever got the impression Dan wanted to… save Jev from a dragon or something, rather than actually touch his dick.

“Do you… Oh, for fuck’s sake, Daniel, you’re not dying of text messages; do you want to fuck him?”

Dan interrupts his wailing to look up at Dany through his fingers, like he’s reliving a dark moment, “Yes?”

“Since when is this?” Dany doesn’t care if he’s slightly mangling the English language, it’s not like Dan’s doing much better. He gets another non-verbal, agonised noise in reply, kicks Dan in the ankle to try and get some coherence out of him.

“I don’t know mate. I’d never even thought about it before,” Dan looks _haunted,_ “but he said the blow job thing and I just assumed it was an accident, you know? Like I used to do to you” - Dan has the kindness to at least look mildly abashed - “because we all get a bit randy and single-handed with the phone sometimes but I don’t think it was and he keeps _touching_ me every time we’re out there and he smells _really good._ How do you fuck a bloke?”

Dany stays quiet for a second, staring at Dan and slightly - well, extremely - relishing the fact he’s completely in control of a situation for the first time in a long time.

“Well, it sounds like he wants you to top. Have you ever fucked a girl in the ass?” Dany’s confident that questioning this is enough of a wound to the Australian National Male Sexual Ego that Dan might stop slipping back into ‘dying whale noises’ mode.

“What?” Dan looks mortally offended now, “Of course I’ve fucked a girl in the arse, I’m not you mate.”

“Well, it’s like that, only with Alonso,” Dany feels himself unable to resist smirking, albeit while desperately hoping Dan a) never looks at _his_ phone, b) does not, through some weird coincidence, know the Russian for “dad-in-law #2.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m not gay” -Dany reminds himself to send Dan the ‘internalised homophobia’ Wikipeda page.

“ _Yes_ , because _neither am I,_ actually,” which is a trump card Dany had been keeping close for ages. He hadn’t known the word for it until recently.

“You’ve arse fucked a girl?” It’s not the technical definition of bisexuality but Dany will allow it just this once.

“Yes, it was good.” it was actually considerably better than that but it had been awhile ago and also Dany hated sharing even that much detail, it felt disrespectful - he’d liked Ira a lot. And it had been extremely valuable experience.

“Mate, you’re a dark horse sometimes,” Dan looks oddly proud of him, “But what the fuck am I gonna do about this?”

“I don’t know, maybe talk to him?” Dan looks like he’s been issued a death sentence, “Or just fuck him. Do you know _why_ he’s texting you?”

Thinking about it, he’s a bit miffed he hasn’t got any consolatory offers of blow jobs. Dan’s not having a great time but surely Dany deserved elder driver pity sex more? Unless Carlos scared them off, of course. Maybe he shouldn’t’ve ignored all the calls from Jenson.

“Honestly, Dan, this doesn’t seem like the biggest problem on the grid currently,” Dany slightly bites his tongue on _the biggest problem in your garage,_ just in case - he’s not sure how political this conversation is, even now and he can always claim he means Hamilton and Rosberg’s simmeringly violent sexual tension.

“I think it is for me, mate,” Dan suddenly looks sombre, rather than stricken with teenage emotions, grimaces when he speaks again “He thinks I’m getting Webbered.”

It takes Dany a second to work out what he’s said - not just some incomprehensible Aussie slang.

Well - it’s not like they’re not _all_ thinking it - but it’d be vastly his own preference over having been “Kvyated.” Even from the sharper end of the sword Dany’s not sure he wants to be blunt enough to say it to Dan, though, “Or Alonso-ed? Like him with Hamilton?”

That actually seems to cheer Dan up considerably, which Dany hates because he realises he just fucking compared Max to Lewis and he’d been doing really well at not wanting to shoot himself, this week. Oh god, if the fucker got a world championship next year that would be fucking _unbearable_.

He recentres on the more present scandal before his brain shuts down completely. His probably-mostly-kind-of-straight ex-teammate and sometimes dancing partner is going to lose his gay virginity to Fernando Alonso. Or just continue to sit in Dany’s hotel room making horribly broken noises that he _fervently_ hopes don’t sound like sex through the wall.

“Do you,” he feels there ought to be some sort of military honour for having this conversation, “need sex advice? Because you should use water-based lu-”

Dan _huffs,_ which is at least an advance on grown-howling, “I don’t know dude. I think I might need a psychiatrist. Do you think he’s trying to fuck me up? Why me?”

Dany finds himself sitting back and laughing, uncontrollably, unguardedly and genuinely at this total fucking mess of a racing driver in front of him, “You think _you_ need a psychiatrist? About a fucking _text message?_ Dude.”

Dan also laughs but in a slightly frightening, borderline hysterical, way “It might... not just be a text message.”

“I don’t give a shit if he’s Snapchatted you, this is not a real problem Dan,” Dany regrets committing to not tell anyone about this, Carlos would fucking _die_ laughing.

“There ah. There…” Dan does the thing where he swallows just before he launches into something, “I sucked his dick.”

Dany stares silently because it’s that or start laughing again and that’s clearly the wrong reaction.

“Uuuhhh. A bit, anyway. Twice. And kind of one other time.”

Dany realises he’s gritting his jaw and makes an effort to unclench it, “You blew Fernando?”

Dan puts his face back in his hands, “I mean I don’t think I did it right? But he seemed to, uh. He enjoyed it.”

“Did _you_?” Dany amazes himself by how coolly dismissive he sounds because he’s halfway between an irresistible urge to text Carlos and an equally strong desire to climb out the window.

“Oh, god, _yeah_ ,” Dan looks halfway between wonder and despair.

This is, Dany realises, going to be a very long, sober evening.

\------

Fernando is humming to himself, which is hardly a new thing. He enjoys it. A bit of singing in the garage is good for you.

“I don’t think much of the remix,” interrupts Jenson cheerfully.

“Of what?” Or is he just taking the piss out of Fernando’s humming? Which he can fuck right off with. Theirs is a very peaceful teaming but if the points-scoring lanky bastard thinks he can get away with insulting Fernando’s superb musical abilities then let Hamilton and Rosberg _try_ to hold a flame to it.

“Men At Work - they’ve done a remix, I don’t like it. Chart’s weird these days,” Jenson is smiling quite cheerily at him, so Fernando tries to ignore the fact he’s just said a load of total nonsense.

“Ehhh,” Alonso is in far too good a mood to be bothered by the idiosyncracies of his team-mate.

“So, you and Daniel. Is this because Mark got married?” Jenson is a huge gossip, Fernando loves it passionately. He’s going to punch him in the mouth, as soon as he finds a step ladder.

“Es not for that, you know this. He has no one to tell him what to do - he does not talk to Daniil anymore- is important for the sport to look after them, you know this. I cannot race a man that sad,” Jenson is laughing, although Fernando’s old and wise enough to realise it’s kindly.

“You putting your dick in his mouth is important to the sport?” Jenson looks positively delighted, “I knew I should have gone ahead with my plan for cheering up Rasputin.”

“ _You do not touch him,_ Jenson. Too young,” Fernando grumps slightly - and if anyone feels like asking, Dan is older than his teammate’s _girlfriend_ so he’s well into the clear, personally, “Daniel is going to make his situation worse if he doesn’t get advice - and he doesn’t take help well.”

“But he takes other things better?” Jenson gives him a congratulatory clap on the shoulder, looking really quite gleeful, “No, no, it makes sense. And it’s not like he’s hard to fancy.”

“ _No,_ you cannot,” Fernando would say it was possessiveness but also he hates the idea of Jenson having sex, their occasional encounters aside. It’s irrational but it just seems wrong, Daniel doesn’t need these problems.

Jenson puts his hands up, “He’s all yours - I’m just saying, not hard to look at. I’ve got my own project.”

Fernando huffs, “Yours is insane,” there is absolutely no need to ever fuck Sebastian Vettel, “this is a good thing to do.”

“How big is his dick?” Right, that’s it - Fernando gets both his hands on one side of Jenson’s waist and physically pushes him out of the garage in a rugby tackle.

\------

_Fake padre, u can’t screw Dan_

Carlos does not hit send. Because in reality, Fake Padre does whatever the fuck he wants and he doesn’t want to seem like the divorcee’s child complaining about his new, young stepmom but _really?_ After all that grief he’d gotten about _“You cannot get close to the Red Bull drivers, they are in an inferno and you’ll get burnt by the flames, I have all the scars.”_

When Carlos had finally got out of stupid interviews, in urgent need of enthusiastic cuddling-plus, the last thing he’d expected to encounter was Dany wearily explaining the finer points of gag reflex control to a partly-dying, partly-excited Daniel. Who’d looked totally horrified to see Carlos, which was pretty funny given Dan was _in his boyfriend’s bedroom apparently asking for sex tips._

It had taken all of about 4 seconds for the horrible truth to come out, after which he’d had to go through laughing, then being offended, then laughing more and ultimately being further offended. Then he’d booted Dan out to sort out his own problems and commanded Dany serviced him with spooning.

The Russian’s nose was pressed into the side of Carlos’ neck, one arm under his head and one round his waist, knees tucked into the back of his, “He’s just confused, you know. He’s not a terrible person.”

Carlos huffs because anyone coming between him and cuddling-plus and also _his_ nice older driver guardian figure was _obviously_ a totally terrible person and also he didn’t like Dan upsetting Dany. Or bonding with Dany. Or generally being within 100m of Dany, right now. He’s having a seriously prickly day, call it the after effects of ‘shooting with frenemies.’

“He’s an asshole. Hold me more.” Carlos isn’t entirely sure what he means by that but accepts Dany curling up around him tighter and bringing the arm around his waist up to his chest so he can half-hug Dany’s hand. He feels weirdly cold, given it’s humid as fuck - judging from the height of his hair, anyway - and for a skinny guy, Dany gives off about a billion degrees of heat.

Dany doesn’t speak again, leaving Carlos to look through Instagram on his phone while his neck gets brushed with soft kisses until he’s moderately placated or at least kind of hungry and sleepy.

He rolls over, snuggling into Dany - fondly grinding very slightly against the erection that’s been poking him in the butt for a quiet 10 minutes. Good to know that even when he’s sulking, the Sainz Jr charm is irresistible. “D’you want food or whatever?”

Dany makes a non-committal noise that suggests he’s probably hungry but not keen on moving, which is fair enough. Now he’s got his nose buried in his teammate’s collarbone, Carlos is feeling pleasantly warm and completely reluctant to change the situation, apart from to tangle a leg between Dany’s and nuzzle him slightly apologetically. It’s not his fault Dan and Fernando are asshats and everything is very anxiety-inducing all the time.

“Chili, te amo,” Daniil is slightly sleepily mumbling into his ear and he finds it a weird turn on, all rumbly and unselfconcious- he’d kill to have a voice as low as Dany’s, he’s way more husky than _fucking Fernando_ but he’s never been exposed to whatever Siberian tar drinks or whatever make you sound quite so bass. Ok, it’s not a _weird_ turn on, he’s just in an odd mood.

He snuggles more forcefully, tips Dany onto his back, snarling a bit. He’s not actually angry but for whatever reason it does something for Daniil, always has. And Carlos wants to fuck him, bite him, let it all out.

He wriggles until his knees are between Dany’s, pulling their clothes off, palming at the bedside table - getting the side wrong, Dany extending a long arm to grab what Carlos wants from the other side of the bed. He can’t even be angry that he’d been trying to pin him down, just grabbing the bottle and foil packet out of his hand. They have vaguely considered not bothering with the latter, after so long but it does save on mess.

Carlos stands off the bed to pull Dany’s jeans and boxers off, shucking off his own and dropping everything on the floor alongside his hair-rufflingly-torn-off top. He doesn’t always or indeed, often top because Dany has such great fingers and this perfect dick but Carlos really enjoys _fucking_ him, sometimes.

He clambers back on the bed, nudges Dany to hook his legs around Carlos’ waist so he can tuck his knees under his arse and they get a moment of warm, intimate friction when their cocks brush together. Carlos surprises himself a lot with how _much_ he loves Dany, it makes no sense and it’s too intense and he’s probably never going to find anyone he likes kissing more, pulling Dany’s hair a bit as he sucks on his bottom lip.

Dany whines and Carlos knows he’s teasing a bit, gets on with slicking up his fingers and gentle stretching. For all he doesn’t top that much he gets off on fingering Dany, on how intimate it is, how connected it makes them feel. Carlos is completely happy to admit he’s a romantic and kissing Dany’s soft whimper away as he adds a third finger makes something curl around his heart.

“Now, Chili” Dany sounds urgent and Carlos realises he’d lost himself a bit, had been briefly wondering if he could fist him. But yes, business in hand; fucking Dany into the mattress.

He withdraws his fingers, shifts from underneath Dany to kneel beside him, rolling the condom on onehandedly, using the other to urge his boyfriend to roll over so Carlos can completely crush him into the sheets, pin him down. He bites the back of Dany’s neck as he pushes in, hands on Dany’s upper arms to hold him down - Carlos feels possessive, a bit primal and Dany sounds nearly brokenly turned on, panting hotly into the sheets and pushing back against Carlos.

There isn’t much actually to fucking, it’s just finding a rhythm and friction and carrying on doing that until they both come. But that’s a bit like saying racing is just driving in a circle. Carlos is unpleasantly, perfectly hot all over and there’s a burn in his shoulders and the pressure on his dick is like pushing the sweetest bruise. He wants to fill Dany completely, fuck him until neither of them can think.

He knows Dany can come from just the friction of the sheets on his dick, fucks him harder, makes it rough, hooking his forearms under Dany’s shoulders so he’s holding him across his chest to pound him. The physical strain is nearly painful, that sweet, satisfying spot of exertion burn that’s says he’s pushing his limits, biting down hard on Dany’s shoulder, making him whine kissing the same spot sweetly.

“ _Moy_ ,” Carlos snarls, grinding his hips down as hard as he can, feeling Dany’s fingers scrabble for a grip on his leg, arching back onto Carlos’ cock, driving him deeper. Everything is heat and sweat and pressure and Carlos wants to make Dany come and come and come, fuck him through it, draw it out.

He takes Dany viciously, the way Carlos knows he likes it best - Dany loves roughness, being treated like he isn’t fragile or frail - and tightens his grip on his chest, Carlos’ own orgasm getting to the stage of buildup where there’s no return. He growls “mine” again, bites down hard on Dany’s shoulder and feels him judder apart, each rough thrust making Dany shake and keen, open mouthed against the sheets.

Carlos has lost the ability to actually think about what he’s doing, shakily pushing in, greedy for more of Dany’s oversensitised moans as he teeters on the edge of his own orgasm. Until he can’t hold it back and everything goes quiet and dark and glorious as he comes for what feels like _hours_ , stilling at last, totally lost inside this man he’s fucking stupidly in love with.

Dany’s fingers curl round his own and Carlos realises he’s sort of half-crying against his teammate’s shoulder, Dany still breathing harshly. That was fucking amazing, if he does say so himself.

He pulls out, chucks the condom away and let’s Dany spoon him again, definitely not sulking this time. Carlos feels blissfully empty and very loved as Dany nuzzles his sweat-soaked hair, kisses his ear. Their sport is fucked up, their employer is fucked up and Daniel and Fernando are _completely_ fucked up but this is good, Dany murmuring “ _Todo tuyo_ ” into the back of his neck.

\------

Dan smiles when he’s stressed or nervous. It’s a weird reaction, like people who laugh when they panic - it’s sort of useful, at least for PR, so he’s never really worried about it. Until now, when he’s feeling the most self-conscious he potentially ever has.

Is he really going to do it? Is he really going to put his dick in Fernando Alonso? It seems crazy but, as Dany put it, it’s not even a top ten entry in weird things this season. A season Dan started as the lead driver in a top team and which he's rapidly heading towards hoping to end as 'employed,' by whatever underhand means he has to do so. He's been watching more wrestling than usual, to try and take his brain off things and he keeps finding himself internally commentating on his own life: " _Oh no, he's not gonna make it - this guy's taking on Horner, he literally just broke Kvyat in half, is the Aussie gonna fare any better? No, he's on the ropes, he's on the ropes and I don't know if he can find any more tricks, Murray. Wait - my god, he's fucking Alonso. He's gonna fuck his way out of this, we're never seen anything like this in a championship match before, this is incredible."_

At the moment, he’s standing dead still in a hotel lobby, smiling weirdly at Fernando, who is grinning at him like he’s just won a race, “My room, is better - not near your teammates.” _(_ _"This is it, this is his big move - Dan's gonna hit him with the Total Fucking Awkwardness and my god, it's like a steel girder but he's just ploughing through it, he's a fucking beast, David.")_

Dan manages an “Ok” and doesn’t trust himself to say anything else as Fernando puts an arm around his waist, guiding him towards the lifts. He doesn’t know what to do with his left arm now, so awkwardly maneuvers it around Fernando’s shoulders and hopes fervently that it feels less weird to the other man than it does to him. He mentally hisses at his own brain to  _please, stop_ as Fake Wrestling Commentator DC exclaims  _"And it's a tangle of limbs, it's like a fucking spider factory down there"_ and Dan just desperately hopes he can be a fucking adult about things for five minutes. Or at least, look like he is.

Nando is hot under his arm, warmth radiating through Dan's shirt sleeve. He smells of expensive aftershave and very slightly of ozone and motor oil and hot rubber - hardly a surprise, for someone who’s been in the pits and Dan finds it a horrible, _horrible_ turn on. Dan loves racing, of course - and he’s not too proud to admit he’s popped a boner a fair few times while driving but he’s never even _thought_ about another driver in a sexual context before the past two weeks and now he's feeling kind of faint off just the  _smell_ of Fernando.

It’s not that he’s never been aware that anyone _could,_ he knew there was a fair amount of fraternisation that went down and being around teenage Carlos and Dany it was pretty impossible to ignore what they were both thinking about. But Dan’s just never wanted to kiss any of them, apart from maybe Susie or Carmen and they’d never seemed like they’d be too interested in him, so it hadn’t been a serious thought.

And there was that one really weird time in the kitchen with Jean-Eric where they’d ended up hugging for ages and Jev’s hand had lingered on Dan’s neck and he’d thought for a second they might. Also Hungary last year when he’d nearly absentmindedly kissed Dany, overwhelmed with emotion and only been pulled out of it by the thought of being murdered very violently and slowly by Carlos. But he figured that was just natural curiosity caused by having openly gay (or whatever) teammates. He’d never actually _wanted_ either of them.

Whereas Fernando… he’s not felt this way about a girl for a long time, maybe because he hasn’t really been with anyone that much older than him but also he’s generally more of a loads-and-loads-of-awesome-sex-in-a-loving-long-term-relationship guy than a ‘really urgently need to commitment-free fuck’ guy. But it’s been two days since he spoke to Dany about the whole ‘how to screw a bloke’ thing and he’s wanked himself halfway blind thinking about the possibilities.

He really wants to fuck Fernando. He thinks he may also want Fernando to fuck him? He’s got no idea what it’s like, even after Dany’s weary description (Dan never would’ve pegged - _heheh_ \- Carlos for the receiver, of those two but he guesses he really doesn’t understand how it works) and after an exploratory fumble with a tub of vaseline yesterday he’s a bit wary, given he can barely fit Nando’s dick in his _mouth_ but then girls seem to get on with it fine.

He’s so deep in his panicked thoughts that he doesn’t notice they’ve got into the lift until Fernando moves in front of him, all intensity and smoulder and grabs the front of Dan’s shirt.

“I thought you might be straight, no?” Nando’s fingers are tracing Dan’s cock through his jeans, which is getting him hard ludicrously fast - especially given he’d come three times before leaving his room, “Just sucking my dick to be polite to an old man. But I think you like it.”

Fernando punctuates his last sentence with a full stroke of Dan’s cock, which makes Dan close his eyes and groan embarrassingly. Dan -slightly pathetically, says his sexual ego- wants Fernando to take control, just tell him what to do and how to do it so something in his life is fucking straightforward, make him worship Nando’s dick and show him everything he’s been missing with the fairer sex. He’s completely broken about it, especially because he still doesn’t even know _how_ to touch Fernando.

Dan swallows wetly and makes an uncertain noise, “I’m not gay.”

“Si, of course,” Nando practically snorts at him, “Is no sin to be complicated. Besides, I would fancy me anyway.”

Mercifully the lift doors ping open, meaning Dan doesn’t have to think of a reply and can just mutely follow Fernando to his door, heart thumping and trousers pretty fucking uncomfortable.

Dan tries desperately not to panic, although he can already feel his palms sweating, as he enters Fernando’s room. The Spaniard is exuding his typical confidence and Dan’s never felt more out of depth in his life. Or at least, not since he was a teenager. Not with an erection, anyway. He's been fairly certain he knows what he's doing with sex for a long while, now - he knows his way around a clitoris, he knows how to work out how a girl likes it, watch her respond and god, he really does love having sex with women but he doesn't know how much any of that applies here. All those years spent learning how to undo a bra with one hand and Nando probably isn't even wearing one.

Fernando smiles at him ferally, pushes Dan up against the door as soon as it closes, jams his knee between Dan’s only-slightly-weakening legs and kisses him passionately. Dan has no idea what to do with his hands, brings them up awkwardly to rest on Nando’s upper arms - and he has no idea what’ he’s doing with the kiss, either. They haven’t done this before, it’s been all a bit more casually blunt and Dan is struggling to cope with the whole beard thing.

He tries desperately to stop overthinking it, concentrate on how good Fernando’s tongue feels against his, how their hips grinding together is producing delicious friction. His fantasies have been so full-bore pornographic for the last week, with a turn for the ‘very detailed’ in the last 48 hours, that he can’t possibly be panicking about kissing.

As he relaxes into it, he starts noticing little things - like the satisfied little noise of affection that Fernando makes when he grabs Dan’s dick again and Dan moans into his mouth. The way Fernando’s right hand is smoothing over the front of his shirt, thumb flicking at the erect tips of Dan’s nipples. It feels amazingly good and he’s melting under the older driver’s skillful touches, Dan bucking his hips up into Fernando’s hand in a way he’d find embarrassing if it didn’t just feel _so great._

Dan feels his belt being undone, flies being pulled down and his cock’s finally relatively free of the confines of his jeans, air hitting the wet patch on his boxers where the tip’s been rubbing precome. Fernando’s hand is in Dan’s underwear, jerking him and Dan feels the back of his head hit the door as he closes his eyes, whimpering in appreciation.

“You make such noises,” Fernando sounds husky, turned on and playful “Going to make you sing, _canguro_.” Dan decided he would tell anyone who ever asked him (and hopefully that would be a list of ‘none’) that the pleasured gasp was because Fernando was fondling his balls, not because the intimacy of a pet name aroused him beyond belief.

“Want to make you come for me - so beautiful like this, Daniel,” Fernando pronounces his name weirdly, extends the vowels, makes it sound biblical. His hand is relentless on Dan’s cock and although it’s been ages since anyone’s given him a hand job, let alone a mostly-clothed one, Dan can feel a knee-wobbling orgasm building as his balls tighten.

Fernando pauses for a moment and Dan hears himself choke out “Don’t stop,” before he’s even really thought it, “ _please_ don’t stop.”

Alonso laughs, low and richly, “Oh, _canguro,_ I didn’t know it was so easy to make you beg,” and Dan swears it’s _not_ but also he’s got the best driver on the grid’s hand down his pants and he’s having a crisis of sexuality. Fernando moves his hand again, teasingly slow and Dan pants, whines, claws at Fernando’s arms, tries every word for ‘ _please’_ he can think of, in any language.

He opens his eyes, sees Alonso’s smirk, hears himself fucking _wail_ “Please, Nando” until Fernando actually finally fucking does it and tugs Dan off into his boxers, spunk coating the fabric and dripping through his pubes before he's even stopped coming. It's disgusting, it's one of the hottest things that has ever happened to him.

Dan pants against the door, hands still on Fernando’s shoulders, trying to work out if he should open his eyes. It’s the first time another man’s ever made him come and he feels weird and limp-limbed. Fernando is stroking his face and telling Dan he’s beautiful in slightly dubious Italian, grinding against Dan’s leg affectionately.

They kiss a bit - or rather, Fernando kisses him and Dan tries not to fall over, eventually pulling back, “Can I … just?” He gestures vaguely to his crotch and then the bathroom.

Alonso laughs, kisses him again and tells him to treat himself.

Safely behind the door, he pulls his jeans and boxers off; getting back to his room commando will be a lot less awful than getting back to his room with drying cum on his crotch.

He retrieves his phone from his pocket and checks his messages, whilst splashing water on his dick in an attempt to remove the worst of it. Oh god, he’s just been wanked off by Fernando Alonso and now he’s trying to wash his dick in a sink onehandedly while texting his gay-or-whatever ex-teammate.

_How’s the gay virginity?_

_I’m hiding in a bathroom mate_

_That’s not how you do it. We talked about this._

It's true enough. He stares at himself in the bathroom mirror; the ‘nice shirt, wet crotch and nothing else’ look is a bit odd. If he’s doing this - and he really wants to, if he can get control of his nerves - he should probably do it right - he starts unbuttoning.

Once he's toed off his socks, fully naked now, he gives his dick an encouraging stroke. It's probably unnecessary now he’s started thinking about fucking Fernando - apparently something that, even with the specifics still pretty vague in his own head, has at least got one part of him up to speed with his youthful new teammate. Once he's hard, he gives himself a once-over in the mirror - he’s at least a 6, probably a 7 right now on the Ricciardo not-as-cocky-as-he-claims-to-be scale.

Dan breathes in and out a few times, gets a grip - metaphorically, no need to get too excited already - on himself and steps back into the main room.

Fernando is luxuriating on the bed, totally naked and covered in a faint sheen of sweat, looking heatedly at Dan through half-lidded eyes as - _oh fuck_ \- Fernando is fingering himself open.

Dan’s done it to girls, experimented with attempting to do it to himself yesterday but nothing could have prepared him for seeing Alonso like this.

“Uh,” Dan swallows.

“You take so long, _canguro,_ I will be in retirement before you fuck me,”  Fernando withdraws his fingers, beckons Dan over, “Will be gentle with you, don’t look so worried.”

Fernando kisses him as he pushes Dan down into the bed, fierce and fiery and Dan’s never been so glad to not be driving something.

\------

Mark opens the message from Fernando, expecting pretty much anything by this point in their friendship. It’s a remarkably elaborate ASCII kangaroo, a line of heart emoji and -

_Still irresistible to you people :)_


End file.
